Precious
by skrewtkeeper
Summary: It was so peculiar, yet so fitting at the same time." A very special meeting evokes exquisite feelings in one Albus Dumbledore.


Precious

_October 10, 1925_

It was within a house that he had found himself more than once before that it happened. Shame was not a factor here; he loved the fact that he could not contain himself, that this emotion could not be bridled by any persuasion on his part. It engulfed him within an instant of setting his eyes upon the contents of the soft bundle. The simplicity struck him as grand, as such was the emotion. It was simple to give to her, yet so difficult to give to another.

Albus Dumbledore came to wish Marius McGonagall his congratulations to the latest edition to his family. Shortly after delivering, his beautiful wife, Ingrid, had passed away from the trauma of childbirth, and now the poor man was left to his own defenses. Albus came that day to wish him luck along with his condolences for such a grievous loss to experimental wandlore of the Wizarding Community.

Hesitantly, Albus knocked twice upon the worn, hickory door that he had knocked upon countless times before. It was a hazy, hollow feeling, knowing that Ingrid would no longer answer that door to him, smiling as always. The sun breathing placidly upon his back was a cruel irony; it was such a beautiful day, and loss had already struck the family with a gnarled yet inevitable promise to return. Albus shivered at the soft, yet crisp October wind before the door was opened by a short creature by the name of Hurly.

"Master is expecting you Mister Professor Albus, sir," she stated quickly, bowing lowly until her elfish snout brushed the gleaming floor of the McGonagall mansion.

Albus nodded curtly, grinning slightly at the house-elf. "Yes, I expect he is, Hurly. Now, could you be a dear and take these---"

Hurly held up her hand and took his cloak and hat without another word before directing him to the sitting room, branching off into a side chamber near the door.

"Thank you Hurly," Albus said graciously before stepping quietly in the direction of her pointing finger.

The sitting room was unoccupied, which was unusual for the McGonagalls. Deciding to sit upon the couch nearest to the door, Albus wandered over to the couch and sat, absentmindedly reaching for the unattended bowl of mints to chomp on during his wait.

Smiling faintly as the mint touched his tongue, Albus glanced around at the quaint room. Nothing seemed out of place, as if Ingrid had paced the room a few minutes ago. Wincing at the cheery atmosphere that began to envelope him like a glove, Albus had half a heart to pace himself. It often cleared his mind of the incessant details that did not matter. The atmosphere that morning was one of those things. Because the sitting room remained as it was before Ingrid's death was a good sign. Marius was coping far better than what Albus had initially suspected and feared he would.

Turning at a small cough, Albus found Marius standing in the doorway of the sitting room. Standing hastily, Albus nearly knocked over the small table adjacent to the couch. Righting it quickly, he stared at Marius for a moment, expecting him to speak first.

"That table is a bloody worthless piece of junk…" Marius trailed off, offering Albus a weak smile before sitting down next to him. "Ingrid would complain mercilessly of it…"

"Dear friend, you needn't mention her yet if you cannot," Albus reassured, patting Marius on the knee. Marius looked up and smiled a second time, yet a much deeper one.

"Thank you for understanding, Albus. Ingrid was my whole world. It's amazing how quickly someone like that can disappear forever…" Sighing quietly, Marius summoned a bottle of wine. He poured them each a glass, and handed one to Albus. Nodding solemnly, Albus listened with sympathy to the mournful man's toast.

"To Ingrid, the untamable flower; may you find roots to firmly plant you." With this said, both men drank cordially to her memory before Albus turned their attention back to the matter at hand.

"Marius," he began gently, "you do realize the terms by which I visit you?"

Marius bobbed his head in comprehension before giving his bottle of Scottish wine a look of longing.

Albus sighed. "You must return to work as soon as your daughter is fit to be left in the care of a house-elf--"

"Yes, I know," Marius cut him off.

Albus, undaunted, however, continued, "--and I offer you my congratulations as a friend."

Marius smiled then. None of his previous smiles matched the one that then coated his face like honey. "Minerva is like Ingrid twice over. I should introduce you…"

"By all means," Albus agreed content to find Marius happy again.

"Hurly?" Marius called openly. Within an instant, Hurly appeared, bowing so her nose brushed across the carpet.

Turning her glassy eyes upon Marius, she asked, "Master called?"

"I'd like you to bring Minerva to me. She needs to be fed anyway…"

Hurly nodded, seemingly delighted by holding Minerva again. "As Master wishes," she said, before disappearing with a soft crack.

A second later, Hurly reappeared, a small bundle of tartan blankets draped in her frail, weathered arms. Albus could not help but smile softly; Hurly looked so small and fragile holding the baby. Tenderly, she handed Minerva to her master along with a small bottle before disappearing again with a flourish.

"Albus," Marius said softly, "I'd like to introduce you to Minerva McGonagall, my daughter…" He held off saying any more as he handed Minerva to Albus to hold.

At that precise moment, the doorbell rang. After assuring Marius that he could hold Minerva for a few minutes, Albus waved him off to answer the door.

Glancing back at Minerva, Albus let his smile engulf his entire face. She was so beautiful; Marius was not lying when he said that Minerva was like Ingrid twice over. As she began to fuss, Albus stroked her cheek and patch of inky-black hair delicately, smiling grandly at the precious bundle he held as she relaxed immediately at his touch. He had almost forgotten what it was like to hold a baby.

"That's what you are," Albus whispered, "absolutely precious…Priceless, my dear…"

At his whisper, Minerva opened her eyes. They were the ivy-green of her mother. Turning her head coyly to gain a better angle at her new caregiver, she yawned and snuggled deeper into his arms, fluttering her eyelids closed before falling asleep a second time.

It was then that Albus allowed something to overwhelm him that he had guarded his heart against for the past thirty years: love. He felt such a deep love for that baby that he smiled even more brightly, and if someone had been in the room at that moment, they would have seen something grand growing in his azure eyes that would later become a trademark of him: a twinkle. Albus was astounded as to how easy it was to fall in love with Minerva; it was so simple, even, that it made his quest for a wife look feeble. He had given up at the ripe age of forty, believing that he no longer had enough to give any woman; yet, he had not counted on a _baby_ stealing his heart. It was so peculiar, yet so fitting at the same time. Forty had come and gone four years before, and though it did not yet show in his long auburn hair and beard, he felt far older than he did at holding such a breath of life. She had barely begun her life, yet Albus wished to whatever sense of deity that was listening that Minerva were _his_ daughter, that Minerva would remain so forevermore.

It was then that Albus realized something important that would forever shape his life into the wizard he would become. Loving was easy if he let himself love. Loving others, though foolhardy and unwise before, was no longer so. It was better to love others regardless of what they did to receive it. It was such a simple answer to the many troubles plaguing him about the rumors of a war fast approaching that Albus chuckled lightly.

Returning to the sitting room, Marius smiled easily at how quickly Albus took to his daughter. Marius already knew how simple and easy it was to love Minerva, and he chastised himself mentally for wishing that Ingrid would revel in the pleasure of motherhood beside him. She was still here, in the form of the daughter they shared with their love.

_Finis_

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A/N: And that's it I suppose. I was unsure of whether or not I should add more, so perhaps you, my readers, could help me with that decision? I have some spare fibers of an idea if a better one is not presented. Who knows? I could just keep it this way. =) I also apologize for the formatting; it looks so much prettier on my computer. -_- Ha, and would someone please vouch for the option of 'fluff' in the categories? I couldn't find anything that fit, so I'm really hesitant at leaving it at romance, lol. xD Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except those you do not recognize. The elements presented are all inspired by the authoress who gave these characters to us, and then gave us permission to play with them.


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